


Q-raker

by internetname



Series: From Q, With Love [5]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2456327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/internetname/pseuds/internetname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q sees Picard through an arduous diplomatic mission, despite severe restrictions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Q-raker

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago under the name Veroneeka. I need to thank the incredible patience and kindness and general wonderfulness of Ruth Gifford, the beta-reader from Heaven.

  
It was the Enterprise's greatest reception. The peace talks had gone amazingly well, in great part due to Captain Picard, the mediator who had managed to stay charming and optimistic and imperturbable even in the face of the most dreadful Biegian insults and the direst Hapkadiim threats. Over the course of weeks he had guided the parties towards reason and compromise, thwarting a war that would have cost billions of lives and cementing the Federation's place in the hearts of both peoples. Picard himself, standing among the delegates and admirals who had wanted to be there for the signing of the treaties, couldn't help feeling more than a little pleased with himself, and fiercely proud of his crew, who had handled a variety of confrontations and near show-downs with grace and poise and honor.

The constant good will which had so greatly aided Picard's triumph was due in very large part to the nearly omnipotent entity who stood near the bar keeping an eye on his lover as he listened to the mortals chatter. 

This was Q's first public appearance, and while only a few people there knew he was the captain's lover, all the Starfleet personnel realized there was some special reason for his being not only present but so well-behaved. He didn't mingle, but he wasn't sneering, nor was he staring overtly at Picard. In fact, he was currently amusing himself by timing his glances at the beloved figure and face when no one was looking at him. Since there were over a hundred pair of eyes in the room, this was something of a challenge, even for him. 

Every now and then he even managed to time these looks with those moments when Picard was looking at him, and then he would send an image across the room of what he planned to be doing a little later. Picard would either archly ignore him, shift a bit on his feet, or -- Q's favorite -- send back an image of his own. 

A moment ago, Picard had sent back a particularly vivid image that had made Q's breath catch more than slightly, and he had raised an eyebrow in a question he knew the captain would be able to read: did he want Q to stop time and make that image corporeal immediately? But Picard had shaken his head just slightly and gotten back into conversation with the Biegian delegates, leaving the entity with more than a little energy he wasn't sure what to do with. He could explode the uninhabited Biegian moon into atoms, but Picard probably wouldn't care for that too much. 

"Are you enjoying the party, Q?" a calm voice asked from behind him. 

Q turned with arch look. "Very much, my professor of the Humanities. A perfectly fascinating study in Humanoid torture techniques." 

Data nodded. He would have been surprised if Q had answered much differently. And now that his emotion chip was working better, he was even starting to develop an appreciation for the entity's sarcasm. He did not find it to be a particularly logical or efficient method of communicating, but it did seem to provide Q with what he wanted. 

Data had also learned enough about Q not to launch into a treatise on the different levels of communication Humans practiced, or what they expected from them, and instead stood there quietly, wondering if Q would care for his attempt at silent companionship or simply use the opportunity to mock him. Data found he did not care for being mocked now that his chip worked so well, although from Q he had learned not to mind as much. 

Actually, Data had thought several times that he was glad his emotion chip hadn't been in place for the first thirty years of his life. He knew that many of the awkward experiences of his development would have been painful in the extreme if he had had emotional responses to them. In fact, sometimes in simply remembering his life he felt strongly unpleasant sensations which he did not always understand. 

Using the present case as an example, in his younger days, Data would have known no better than to ask Q questions about his relationship with the captain. The android actually felt the urge to shudder -- and delighted in such a strong reaction -- to think what Q would do to him should he try such a thing. Looking at the entity now, he had to admit to a certain curiosity, and to a certain degree of embarrassment at that curiosity. He was now capable of feeling how much Picard meant to him, the captain who had become the father his real father had never wanted to be. As such, he found himself, to his surprise, frequently feeling protective of Picard, not only of his safety, but of his happiness. And he knew that Q was a potential source of danger. It was his concern over this that had made him bring the affair to everyone's attention almost four months ago. And while Data trusted Q not to hurt the captain or destroy the ship, that trust was not unconditional. It would not be logical to ignore the unpredictability of a lifeform like Q. 

On the other hand, Captain Picard's increased happiness since his involvement with Q was easy to observe. Data believed and had evidence to support the belief that without Q in his life the captain would still have been successful in his mediation of this peace conference. Picard's excellence in such situations was a matter of record. 

But Data also believed, and had a great deal evidence to support the belief, that Q had made things a great deal easier for Picard and for the entire staff. What would have been an extremely trying, emotionally fraught and frustrating series of weeks that would have affected not only the captain, but also Counselor Troi and Commander Riker in their support of him, had been merely a round of hard work. Except for a few days at the beginning of the conference, the captain had retired each night exhausted and appeared each morning refreshed and in good humor. And that mood had been infectious, filling first the crew and then the delegates with first the hope and then the certainty that everything could be peacefully and satisfactorily resolved. 

This, Data considered, was no small accomplishment on the captain's part, nor on Q's, particularly considering the enforced celibacy. 

"Are you enjoying the party, Data? Q?" 

The two addressed turned to look at the counselor, herself resplendent in a formal gown of Betazoid fashion, dark curly hair piled high on her head. 

"What is the mortal obsession with social pleasantries?" Q demanded. 

"Don't the Q have ritual customs?" Troi asked back, feeling, rather foolishly, that nothing Q could say would bother her. She knew even better than Data how much easier her job had been because of Q's personal assistance. Usually, at the end of something like this, she would be emotionally and physically exhausted. Now, she was tired, and had the satisfaction of knowing she had worked hard at her job, but that extra level of difficulty, the one that made work a burden, had been kept from her. In fact, she more than anyone had been in a position to benefit from the captain's unfailingly good mood. 

Q easily sensed the counselor's good will, and gave her up for a lost cause. If there were anything worse than a Betazoid/Human woman to begin with, it could only be a happy and contented Betazoid/Human woman. 

Besides, a moment was coming up when he would meet Jean-Luc's eyes again. There. Just a nano-second, but it was enough to send another image of what he planned to be doing soon to that luscious body once he got it naked and supine. The barest hint of a quiver ran through his beloved, and Q suppressed a truly wicked grin. 

Would this stupid party never be over? What was it with Humans and their need to be bored out of their minds every time something nice happened? It was not as though he and Jean-Luc hadn't had to wait long enough already. 

Q had sensed trouble the second the orders had come through. 

Picard had been at his desk when they came in, and Q had been on the sofa, trying to get Picard away from his desk. It had been one of those rare times when Q's presence was a welcome distraction from a frustrating day. Usually, Q stayed away when his lover was doing his job. He could certainly find enough things in the universe to entertain himself without getting too desperate with loneliness. When Q did arrive, Picard made a conscious effort to put his work aside. And if an emergency arose while they were...engaged, Q simply took them out of time until Picard was ready to deal with it. That sort of temporal trickery was something the Starfleet captain hadn't liked at first, but had made himself get used to for Q's sake...and for his own, he eventually admitted. In turn, Q had forced himself to get used to the idea that even when they were in the middle of something important, some serious discussion or a discovery of some new form of bringing each other pleasure, Picard would be distracted even by an emergency held at temporal hold. Q was learning to accept that Picard's job completed the man's identity, and couldn't be treated as unimportant no matter how inconvenient it sometimes became. 

But every now and then they allowed the line to blur slightly. Picard had been looking over ship's business, but he hadn't really been on duty. He needed to finish several reports, but not for a couple of days. He had been at his desk, but he hadn't been wearing any clothes. He had refused to come to the couch where an equally naked Q awaited him, but he hadn't really done much ship's business either. 

And then Starfleet's orders had come in. Picard had read them over, and all the fun of the lazy afternoon drained from his face, replaced by the Competent Captain. 

But the peace conference itself hadn't been the bad news. In fact, Q found he actually welcomed the opportunity to show Picard that he could be a help during a trying professional experience. 

It was the demands of the peace conference that threw the entity for a loop. Both the Biegians and the Hapkadiims -- two races sharing a solar system and evolved from the same root species -- claimed to believe that spiritual peace was generated by physical discipline and denial. All the delegates, including those from outside worlds, who wished to participate in the conference were expected to maintain a strictly defined level of celibacy. Anyone unable to control such a basic urge as the sexual drive sufficiently during such a conference was believed to have no place among the supposedly enlightened peacemakers. 

The next day, when Picard had explained the situation in detail, sitting in his uniform on his ready-room sofa, gripping a cup of tea from which he had not yet drunk once, Q knew he was now expected to get angry, or pout, or threaten to leave during the conference and return when it was over. If it were not for all those years of teasing and annoying the captain -- years Q looked back on with great fondness -- Q might have been upset or insulted at the captain's apprehensions. 

But instead he leaned back on the sofa with his arms folded and said, "Well, weeks and weeks without me inside you. Think you'll make it, Johnny?" 

Picard snorted and sipped some tepid Earl Grey. "I'll manage." 

"Hmmmm." Q held up his hand and a data padd from Picard's desk flashed into his grip. "Your two little clubhouses share a great deal of cultural flotsam, but I see on the issue of what exactly constitutes sex and celibacy, they can't make up their minds. Let's see, for the Biegians, sex involves direct physical contact in which both participants intend to achieve climax. Ah, written so that a delegate couldn't be knocked out of things by being raped or getting a friendly hug. The Hapkadiims define sex as any action intended to aid procreation -- well, that lets us off the hook -- or as any mutually consenting act of penetration or erotica. Well, how do they define 'erotica?' Here it is. Hm. A list of specific body parts that come into direct contact for purposes of sexual stimulation. How very anal-retentive." 

"I'm not sure this is helping, Q." He frowned as the entity called up another display. "What is it?" 

"Just looking up 'mutually consenting.' How interesting." 

Picard wished he'd stop. "Q...love. I was thinking that it will give us the opportunity to explore the more platonic side of our relationship." 

"Are you saying we don't talk enough?" Q pouted a bit, enjoying himself immensely. He had every intention of "exploring" their relationship. 

"Of course not." In one of those gestures that Picard had spent a great deal of time learning to do naturally, Jean-Luc reached out his hand to take one of Q's. "I only meant that as long as the two of us are doing something together, I don't much care what it is." 

_Oh, you're good, Jean-Luc. You're very, very good._

And they smiled at each other rather foolishly for a time. 

"So when does this torture begin?" Q asked. 

Picard shifted slightly, holding Q's hand a bit more firmly now. "I'm afraid I officially entered the proceedings by accepting my orders." 

"No last wild roll in the hay to tide us over?" 

Picard brought Q's hand to his lips and kissed the back of it tenderly. "I tried to put it off, just for a day, but the matter has become an issue of some urgency." 

Q was fully aware what it meant that Picard would attempt such a delay, and opened up the hand his lover had kissed to smooth his palm and fingers over the side of Jean-Luc's face and over his perfectly shaped head. "Well, I think you should be given a little leeway. No one else at the conference has to refuse to enjoy something as good as what we've got." 

Privately, Picard agreed, but he said only, "My dedication to the conference can never fall under suspicion if the mission is to be successful." 

"I love it when you talk dirty." Fingertips lightly stroked Picard's left ear. 

"Q, would you stop that, please?" 

"You know," Q said, not stopping, "the Hapkadiims don't include ears in their careful list of erogenous zones. The Ferengi would be insulted." 

Picard couldn't believe how disturbing Q's light touch was becoming. He knew his lover wasn't using any of his powers, and yet the sensation of that gentle fondling around the swirls of his ear was powerful in the extreme. When one of Q's fingers actually went inside his ear, his whole body reacted. Frowning at his own deep shudder, he grabbed Q's hand and pushed it away before standing up from the couch. 

"I thought you understood what I have to do during this conference." 

And then suddenly Q was right behind him, his hands holding Picard's shoulders as he whispered in that same ear, "We won't violate your little friends' customs, my love, I promise you. But if you think we're going to go all that time without touching each other, you'd better think again." 

And then his tongue was lightly tracing those same curves and swirls his fingers had found a moment before, and Jean-Luc had to close his eyes with the spreading arousal that touch created. The backs of his legs were tingling, and he began to feel empty and needy and everything he tried not to feel while on duty. 

_Don't, oh God, don't do this to me now._

_I think I might be able to wait until tonight._

Picard tried to think more clearly through his warm haze of sensation. _I meant to tell you, I have to go down to Biegia IV tonight. The first round of talks will be held there, and both sides are insisting that the participants remain on the planet._ He said it neither aloud nor in his mind, but his request that Q stay away while he was planetside was clear. 

"That settles it, then," Q groaned, turning Picard's body with his hands while one leg swept the captain's feet out from under him. The entity controlled the fall with his body and they landed with a gentle rolling thud on the floor, Q's form completely covering Picard's. 

_I can't kiss you, Jean-Luc. Even the Hapkadiims seem to know what lips are for. Please, love, look at me._

The man gazed up into the mesmerizing eyes of his lover and felt the arousal in his body increase ten-fold. _Q, I'm not sure this is something I can allow._

_What difference does that make?_

Picard felt his deep shock weakly battle his body's other sensations. "You don't mean you'd take me by force?" 

"Well," Q panted as his body began to move slightly, pressing and then caressing Picard's groin with his own and watching the dark clouds gather in the man's hazel eyes. He went back to speaking with his mind. _I might later, if you need it. It would get us happily around both cultures' conditions for violating celibacy. But I don't think anything so drastic is called for right now. After all, we're not touching each other._

And Picard realized dimly that this was true. Q was only pressing against him where the uniforms covered them both. But that didn't seem to deter his body from acting as though they were sprawled naked in a brothel. He knew he'd become fully erect, straining painfully against his clothing, wanting so much more than this. 

And then he saw the plea in Q's eyes and let go of his mental barriers, groaning aloud as Q's consciousness spilled inside him, thrusting back with his own feelings as they twined around each other in that soft warmth of love and trust, made hotter with desire. And, exposed, Picard's mind revealed that he really wasn't entirely comfortable with this game of dodging the precise definitions of celibacy. However, he wasn't so uncomfortable that he actually wanted Q to stop, and the delighted entity pressed against his lover more insistently even as their mental link deepened, burning even hotter with pure lust. 

And then Picard felt something he'd never gotten from Q in all the times they'd joined. Always before, he could tell the difference between their mental connection and their physical. But this new sensation was a blend of both, for though he was positive this stimulus came strictly from Q's mind, it raced along his skin and danced along his nerves as though it were some tangible manifestation of love and desire, as though the emotions had become so dense they had taken solid form. 

Q sensed his lover's confusion and laughed. _I'm touching you with a part of myself the Hapkadiims completely forgot about: my mind. Morons. That's _me_ along your nerves. Me touching your skin. Can you feel me there, on your left nipple?_

Picard's groan shook his whole frame. The sensation was exquisite. 

_Don't stop, beloved._

_I have no intention of stopping. Have I ever told you how much I like your nipples? They're so pale and they respond to me so eagerly. Every time I see you now I want to leap on top of you and kiss them. I never thought I would get as crazy about anything as I was about your legs..._ Picard groaned harder as the touch of Q's focused consciousness rubbed tenderly along the inside of his right, and then his left thigh. _...but now there simply isn't a part of your gorgeous shell I don't completely adore. It's really quite amazing. Though, I must admit, I have a special fondness for_ this _part._

Picard thought he would die, that his over-matched mechanical heart would simply give out, when Q's mind smoothed its loving path to his penis and began to stroke along his nerves. He felt also the pressure of Q's own straining erection against him and involuntarily reached for his lover to hold him close. Q's hands grabbed him just below the elbows, touching only his uniform, holding him out of danger's way as every drop of blood in Picard's body seemed to rush into that central spot. 

He came, the relief and the joy of it washing through everything he was, on and on, soaking his uniform in sweat and semen while Q locked his arms to stay out of reach and released his own need into a spiraling tempest of that special ecstasy he could never enjoy enough. It wasn't the sort of mutual orgasm he and Jean-Luc had learned to share, but not even Q could trust himself to stay in control if he let his partner that far into himself. And it was still incredibly good and left them both gasping and languid on the ready room floor, laying apart but still locked onto each other's eyes. 

When their breaths were at least somewhat back to normal, Q cleaned them both off and helped Jean-Luc to his feet. 

"I love you," Picard said simply, enjoying the feel of the words in his mouth and the instant effect they had in Q's eyes. 

Q stepped back, blew him a kiss, and said simply, "See you later," before snapping out in his flash of light. 

Not much later, Picard was beaming down with Troi and Riker and Data, and the peace talks quickly degenerated into calmly moderated screaming matches and mad scrambles to save face. After several days, even Picard's manners were growing ragged, and he called a recess at midday until the following morning. 

He spent the afternoon with his staff, only then recognizing that somehow the delegates had begun to inch towards progress, and then ordered them all, including Data, to take some time to themselves. 

Troi and Riker decided to get some dinner at a restaurant on the other side of the world, Data opted for wandering around the capital city to observe the Biegians in their element, and Picard walked the length of the capital building to clear his head on the way to his designated rooms. 

As his weary steps crossed rooms and marched down almost endless corridors, he tried to figure out how he could ease the tension that both sides seemed to feed off of with such determination. It were as if they enjoyed stress and misery, or if their discomfort in general were some sort of empty show of their devotion to duty. That celibacy thing really should have been a warning. Unlike the people he saw on the streets of Biegia, the delegates wore constrictive clothing of uncomfortable-looking materials. Food and beverages were not allowed during the meetings, and breaks for such things even as using the facilities were frowned upon. Any attempts even at mild levity received nothing but stiff shoulders and averted eyes, and even Troi's comforting presence and Data's invaluably objective observation seemed to be resented. 

He could accept this behavior if only the Biegian people themselves reflected it as well. But Picard was beginning to suspect that it was something the Biegians and Hapkadiims did only around each other, like some sort of elaborate staring contest. If he could just get them to understand that it wasn't necessary, or agree to dispose of such pointless ceremony... 

Finally, he reached the doors to his rooms and had his hand scanned by the door lock. They were very nice rooms, tastefully decorated, if a little too strenuously colorful for Picard's taste, and he had been given a sitting room, dressing room, private bath, and bedroom, all checked out thoroughly by security and close to the rooms of his officers. So far, however, all he had used the rooms for was quick showers and too little sleep. As he walked inside, he wondered how he could get some dinner with the least amount of fuss. 

"You look tired," a warm voice drawled from one of the room's soft blue couches. 

Half-closing his eyes just at the pleasure of that sound, Picard turned to see a long body in a Starfleet captain's uniform sprawled out over the cushions. Dark brown eyes smiled, matching the slow curve of sensual lips and, as he watched, a slight sinking of the whole body deeper into the cushions. 

"You really are extraordinary, Q," Picard growled, striding across the room with a body that suddenly wasn't so tired any more. 

"Hardly an appropriate comment for one sworn to celibacy." The dry remark was clipped off as Picard all but threw himself on top of Q and wrapped his arms around his lover before tucking his face into Q's neck and slowly letting his body relax. Q shifted a bit to get them more comfortable, then held Jean-Luc a long, long time. 

"I shouldn't have asked you to stay away," the captain confessed finally. "It was foolish." 

"No more foolish than a lot of the things you do," Q murmured, stroking his back lightly and without targeting anything sensitive. "Considering that I can't keep my hands off you, it's hardly your fault that you think of me primarily as a sexual partner." 

"Not true," Picard objected, still talking into the juncture of warm neck and shoulder as his whole body quietly sang. "You're my partner in every sense of the word, and I wanted you here from the beginning. I just didn't know how you would feel about..." 

"About what?" Q was frowning fiercely now, but made his hand continue its comforting caress. 

"...about being here, with me, when I can't be with...can't make love with you." 

The frown wrestled with a tender smile a moment, then surrendered even as Q felt his emotions melt. Had he no defenses at all against this man? Still, for Picard to think that he wouldn't want to be here anyway...He really wanted to be angry about that. 

"I'd say you underestimated me more than a bit, Jean-Luc. Now you owe me a forfeit." 

Picard caught himself just before saying "anything," and smiled against Q's neck, well aware that he was only a half-inch away from a particularly sensitive spot. 

"What did you have in mind?" he asked instead, as suspiciously as he could manage. 

"All in good time. I know you haven't eaten since this morning, and you little Humans do get so grouchy when your stomachs are empty. What would you like?" 

"Something that doesn't take too much chewing." His jaw fiercely arched both from talking and from forcing himself not to talk. 

Q smiled and the low table to the side of the couch moved to the front. A plate of salmon, spinach and peach soufflés sat on it next to a glass of white wine. Picard smiled back and reached for the plate, but Q firmly blocked the move and took the plate in one hand and the fork in the other. 

"Or would you prefer grilled fish?" 

The shared memory filled their gaze. 

"I'd prefer a lot of things," Picard murmured. 

"Have you forgotten that you're paying a forfeit?" Q put some of the salmon soufflé on the fork and lowered his voice. "Open up." 

Slowly, fearing this was only going to end in frustration, Picard opened his mouth and watched Q carefully feed him a bite of food. It was, of course, delicious, but the captain barely tasted it. The enthusiastic twistings of his stomach weren't helping his appetite. 

Q persisted, however, not satisfied until the plate was cleared, though he did help out with a few bites himself, the shared fork a poor substitute for kisses, but a substitute nevertheless. 

"Ready for your bath?" Q asked as the plate and empty wine glass disappeared. 

"Q..." Picard's warning was serious, but Q looked back at him with a solemnity to match. 

"You're making up to me, remember? I don't care at all for the idea that you think I'm only interested in kissing you all over and making you come." 

Picard shuddered unpleasantly. This was getting to be too much. "I don't think that. I just didn't want to make you feel that you had to..." He gestured helplessly. 

"Had to what?" 

Picard sighed. "I hate the idea of not being able to give you what you want." 

Q's eyes closed a moment as he drew a breath that wasn't nearly as steady as he'd intended. When he opened his eyes again, their expression seemed to burn what they looked upon. 

"Do I have to say it, Jean-Luc? Being with you is what I want." 

Denied the right to kiss Q then, the right to take this adopted Human body in his arms and make the entity he adored feel as good as he was able, Picard simply leaned forward, resting his forehead on Q's shoulder. 

"I love you, Q. I don't know anything anymore but loving you." 

Q's arms came around him, holding him close many long minutes, then he spoke almost gruffly, "Time for that bath." 

Picard chuckled. Q seemed to have a very specific agenda in mind for the evening. "Do you really think that's wise?" 

"Don't you trust me?" 

Picard sensed the seriousness under the light tone and pulled back to meet Q's eyes. "With my soul." 

Smiling with abandon, Q took his hands and led him into the bathroom, where a tub -- rather larger than the one Picard remembered being there -- was already full of steaming water. Deftly, Q took off his partner's uniform, carefully folding it and placing it on a shelf, then removed the rest of his clothes and helped him into the water, helped him scrub his back -- to Picard's great amusement -- then handed him a towel and watched him dry off. Taking his hands once again, he led Picard into the bedroom and shook his head when the man looked around for his pajamas. 

"Lay down on the bed, Jean-Luc." 

"I really don't think..." 

"Don't tell me you haven't realized that this ridiculous posture of self-denial is only making their situation worse." 

"I still promised --" 

"And you won't be breaking any promises, Jean-Luc, I promise you. Now, do you trust me or not?" 

Picard swallowed, then lay down on the bed, feeling unpleasantly on display. When he looked at Q, his eyes went wide. While Q occasionally wore other costumes for amusement, he was almost always either in his Starfleet captain's uniform or naked with Jean-Luc. For the first time, he was wearing pajamas: black silk shorts and crew-necked, short-sleeve shirt. 

"You like?" Q struck a pose. 

"You look gorgeous." 

"Hmmm." Moving quickly into the bed, Q settled at his feet and took one in a familiar grip before starting an even more familiar pattern of massage. 

"This brings back memories," Picard remarked with quiet enjoyment. 

"Doesn't it? I'd been trying for so long to get my hands on you, and what part did I finally end up with? Your feet!" 

"I seem to recall your enjoying it well enough." 

Q pinched a toe rather firmly. "Just for that, we're going to have a quiz." 

"Oh, are we?" 

"Question one: what parts of the male anatomy do the Hapkadiims include in their definition of 'erotica?'" 

You're going through all this just the get me to say dirty words?" 

"Really, Picard! Such a juvenile attitude about Humanoid physiology!" 

Picard wanted to think of something clever to say, but Q's hands were magic, releasing the tension all through his body with precise application of pressure along the soles and sides and tops of his feet. 

"All the usual places," he murmured. 

"Those being...?" 

"Mouth, chest, everything between the hips." 

"Oh! Euphemisms! How disappointing!" Q continued the massage a moment. "Nothing in there about calves and shins?" 

"Hmmm, nothing I remember." 

Q's hands moved up, smoothing out tension there for a time. Picard felt more stress drain out, surprised at how much there was of it, surprised at how wonderful this felt. 

"How about thighs?" 

Picard felt the words contract something throughout his body, and a delicious tension of another sort was filling him. Laying here naked, there was no denying the physical effect of Q's words and touches, and despite his trust in Q, he had to worry. 

"I think you may have forgotten we have two definitions to contend with." 

"Oh, the first one is no trouble. I'm just not going to come." 

Picard opened eyes he didn't remember closing, his surprise and displeasure more than a little amorphous under Q's skilled touch. It had been so many days with nothing but the bitterness of the conference and his own empty body. "What? Q, what's the point...I can't just...not like this. Not without you." 

"I assure you, you can." 

"But --" 

"Hush, Jean-Luc. Is it really so hard to understand why I want to do this? Now, are thighs forbidden or not?" 

Picard forced himself to relax again, and shook his head. It really wasn't so hard to understand. If somehow the tables were turned, he would want to do this for Q. 

Which gave him an idea, and he smiled, eyes closing at the bliss Q's hands were bringing his body. 

Picard had expected Q to move to his back or arms, but instead the massage began to change slightly, the rubbing growing lighter and yet more focused, more tantalizing. 

He began to moan, softly, at first. 

Q had focused his entire mind on what he was doing. It was really something he'd meant to do for some time now, taking the time to enjoy each curve and line and dip of Picard's legs. He almost regretted his earlier words about loving all of Jean-Luc's body equally. As the strong muscles gave slightly under his hands, as the warm skin and light coating of hair caressed his palms and fingers, as the sculpted shape seemed to guide his movements, each stroke up and down, above the knees, over, below, then back up again, Q felt more and more that he was touching some sort of extraordinary work of art. The Q hadn't much use for art in the way that mortals would describe it: statues and paintings and such. There really wasn't much point in getting excited about something so simple, even if it were sometimes quite pretty. 

Q art was held to a different standard: a truly twisted anomaly, like the type he had once been ordered to make for his lover, or a fantasy creation with a life and logic of its own, or an influence on a species which continued through the millennia. 

Any Q who had managed to come up with even a fantasy Jean-Luc Picard would have been heralded as a genius in the Continuum, no question. And by some incredible workings of the cosmos even a Q could only be amazed at, this work of perfection had wound up as Q's lover, in his life, moaning now constantly under his hands, gasping out, now, his name. 

"Q...Q, don't stop..." 

Never before had Picard felt so worshipped, not even when he'd been mistaken for God. Q's hands seemed votive offerings to his flesh, each caress an act of devotion. It was true that the rest of his body ached for that touch, but that ache was itself arousing, and he couldn't help clenching and releasing his muscles in a reciprocating rhythm that was working him very close to the edge. 

"Q, love...I don't...think..." 

At just the right moment, Q bent down and lightly bit into the high inside of Picard's left thigh even as his fingers found that tiny spot right behind his right knee and another spot exactly in the center of his left arch, and the body under him jerked and arched and came. 

Only while Picard lay there gasping in the aftermath did Q acknowledge to himself that he had grown more than comfortably aroused. Bringing all of his will to bear, he relaxed his Human body and felt his erection slowly subside. Then he cleaned Jean-Luc up and then took him into his arms, well aware the his lover was trying hard but without much success to stay awake. 

"Thank you," the man mumbled. 

"No trouble for you, Mon Capitaine." 

Q awoke with empty arms and the knowledge that he was being watched. Smiling a little, he rolled onto his back and drowsily looked up to see Picard sitting cross-legged on the bed, dressed in his pajamas and wearing an almost detached expression. 

"For someone who doesn't need to sleep you've really become a slug-a-bed." 

"For someone denied getting royally fucked you're really asking for it." 

"Hmmm." In one quick motion, Picard whipped the sheet off the bed. "Weeks of being denied are a small price to pay for seeing you in those pajamas." 

Q allowed himself to stretch out, drawing up his arms and arching his back as his long legs pulled themselves straight, then he relaxed with a sigh and smiled a contented smile. He didn't know what Jean-Luc was planning, but he thought it would probably be pretty good. 

"You're quite lovely," the captain said. "But, come to think of it, I think you'd look even better with your shirt off." 

Getting the idea now, Q reached his arms around and slowly, smoothly, pulled off his black top and let it fall by the side of the bed. At the same time, Q separated himself from his powers. This was his lover's show. 

"Yes," the rich baritone murmured, soothing Q's eyes closed, "much better. There's all that skin I love to touch, that presses against me and makes me feel wrapped in silk and velvet, that responds to my touch so delightfully I think I'll come just from your shivers alone. I think I'd almost let the Biegians and Hapkadiims go to war just so I can touch it now, but somehow I can't convince myself." 

Q was shivering now. This really was pretty good. 

"So, please, love, you do it for me," Picard said, voice husky now as well as low and caressing and almost tangible. "Bring your hands to your chest and just lay them there." 

Slowly, his thwarted erection from the night before already starting to return, Q brought his hands to his chest and couldn't help starting a bit in surprise. This felt really good, and with that voice and his closed eyes, it was easy to pretend these were Jean-Luc's hands on him. 

"That's right. Now, why don't you move your hands down just a bit? There's a place I love to touch, right next to your ribs on your right side. Could you caress that just with the tips of your fingers? Good. Very good." Picard smiled as the outline of his lover's erection showed plainly through his shorts, then schooled himself to patience. "You know, I'm glad you say you like my chest so much, and I certainly love yours, but did you know that your stomach is even more fun?" Q frowned slightly. "It's true. So sensitive. As you'll see if you trace a small circle around your navel with the fingernails of your left hand." 

Q shuddered and complied, murmuring back, "It's about now I usually ask you to touch me more." 

"Do you know your nipples are already hard? Why don't you kiss the fingertips of your right hand and then roll your left nipple the way I love to...that's it. That's it. Your right one now, perhaps a bit harder." 

Q complied each time, adding in some things on his own, concentrating on the knowledge that Picard was watching him, that it was really Picard touching him through his own hands. Soon, Q was breathing heavily, painfully erect. 

"Now it's time to get rid of the rest of your clothes, don't you think? I want to see you." 

Q smiled in satisfaction at the wavering strength in that voice and stripped his bottoms off with relief, keeping his eyes closed. If he looked at Jean-Luc now, he would come. 

"God, that's beautiful. You're beautiful. Touch what I cannot right now, please." 

"This is you," Q said roughly as his hands went to that aching part of his body and began to stroke. "I am you and you're touching me and it feels so good." 

"Then I'd like to touch you a little faster, Q." 

Q groaned at the dry humor of the shaking words and concentrated on his movements, wishing he could involve his lover more completely, but not wanting to take the lead away from Jean-Luc. 

And then he heard it: _What are you seeing behind your closed eyes, my heart?_

And Q let his mind open in a jumble of treasured memories: Picard insisting that Q acknowledge that Picard loved him before fucking him senseless, the first time Q had returned from the Continuum to find his lover waiting and sleeping naked, the first time Picard had taken him in his mouth and proven he really wanted Q back. 

And Picard matched each memory with one of his own: the time he'd awoken to find Q masturbating in an attempt not to disturb his sleep before he splashed him with his hot cum, the time Q had dared angering the Continuum by leaving them to appear in Picard's ready room for a few stolen moments of love, the first time Q had told him what he wanted to do his body. 

And then together they thought of the first time they'd been in each other's minds, and Q came with a howl while Picard committed every detail of the sight to memory: the flush of Q's skin, the pitch of that scream, the arch of his back, the strain of his muscles under his soft, sweaty skin, the sated look in his eyes when he finally opened them with words of love. 

"I love you too, Q." 

Q looked Picard over and smirked a bit. "Your turn." 

Though he hadn't intended on this, Picard did not hesitate, stripping off the damp silk and then leaning back on one hand, staring into those dark eyes as his other hand quickly took care of the urgent need that had been caused by watching Q. With a groan, he came, then fell back on the bed beside his lover, not touching, until it was time to get dressed for the conference, and the captain stood up to look down on the beloved naked form on his bed. 

"Next time," Q said before he disappeared, "let's do it together and say sexy things." 

  
And so the weeks passed. The two lovers used all their imagination to invent new ways of pleasing each other, and though it wasn't as intense as what they usually had it was more than enough to keep Picard's mood unfailingly good as the delegates threatened to descend into near-madness of hostility and discomfort. Picard and Q discovered quite a few things that shouldn't have been arousing, but were, and some things that should have been, but weren't. 

Perhaps most disappointing was the discovery that simply coming together mentally without touching at all didn't work well. Once their thoughts were wrapped around each other, the absence of physical contact became painful, an aching need so intense they almost threw themselves across the bed at each other. Quickly, arousal frightened out of them both, they disengaged and spent the night in each other's arms, clinging almost desperately. 

But the closest call came the night Q decided he would get Picard to come without a single erotic touch. 

It had been three nights in a row that the captain had been so tired that he hadn't stayed awake for much longer than dinner and a little cuddling. Q had held him close all night and seen to it that he slept as long as possible in the morning. 

But then the talks had gone well for a change, and though it was late Picard came into his rooms with more decidedly more energy. Q had been tempted to ask him to dance, but instead had whipped up a truly sumptuous dinner, coaxing Jean-Luc into trying a few new dishes as they talked about the conference. Then he hustled him into the bath and bed with an overt gleam in his eye that left his lover chuckling and more than a little keyed up. 

Drawing Picard's compact and beloved body into his embrace as they lay together on the bed, Q put his lips right next to his right ear and gave in to a temptation he'd had for years. 

"I wanted you the first time I saw you." 

Picard shivered and smiled into the darkness. 

"I was wearing that delightful ship's captain's uniform, doublet and hose, remember?" In case he didn't, Q was sending him a clear image of the scene. "And I told you that Humans were an uppity little race, and you stared at me like I had escaped from a mental institute, and I thought you were just the most desirable-looking thing I had ever seen. Of course, I had no idea I was actually going to fall in love with you, but even while I was doing all the things the Continuum had told me to, and enjoying myself immensely, I admit, I knew things weren't going right. And then we had those little talks, and you were so angry with me, and I was starting to think more and more about how you would feel against me, about how you would look doing that odd thing Humans seem to like most, how your thoughts would feel around mine, about what it would be like to see you look at me with trust and desire." 

Picard was becoming aware of several things all together. Q's voice was stroking him with a rough, tangible caress, the images which continued to fill his mind were becoming more and more personal in their feel, he was growing seriously aroused, and Q had positioned them so that quite a bit of "safe" skin was in contact. Once again he was shaking at the idea that his lover wanted him to come without worrying about his own pleasure, except the pleasure he got from making Picard feel good, and he thought he was in serious danger of weeping at the tenderness of it. 

"And there was this moment, when I was tempting Riker and he was too stupid to realize what was happening to him, you and I were arguing about _Hamlet,_ do you remember?" More images flowed over him. "And I thought, 'I'll just jump on him right now and we'll see what a piece of work man is.'" 

Picard laughed, and then gasped at another quite graphic image buoyed up with hot need. 

"Of course, it made me furious, and I threw your book at you and tried to concentrate on what you were saying about Humanity, and then you made me look very bad to my fellow Q, and I tried to hate you for that." 

The man's breathing was growing a little more than uneven as Q's voice became the only thing of consequence in the world. He felt almost as if he were floating, kept aloft himself by the desire and love rumbling through those flowing words. 

"And then I got you into Shuttlecraft Six, and you were so angry, and I had no idea what to do to get you to see what I really wanted. In fact, I have to admit I didn't quite know what I wanted either, except to be with you. I meant every word about wanting to join your crew, you know." 

"I'm s--" 

"Shhh. It wouldn't have worked then anyway. Don't worry. Do you have any idea how good you feel in my arms? You're so perfect. Your warmth against me is delicious, and every nerve in my Human body is stimulated by knowing you're mine. And you are, aren't you, Jean-Luc?" 

The man shuddered. "Of course. Yours. And you're mine." 

"Naturally. Tell the Biegians and Hapkadiims to take a hike and you can use me however you please." He paused to savor Jean-Luc's deeper shudder, then resumed speaking and allowing his memories to trail through his lover's mind. "Anyway, there we were in the shuttlecraft, and you sat there for six hours and I couldn't believe you were just going to pretend you weren't at my mercy, and more than anything I just wanted to throw you on the floor and take you over and over. And then," Q's voice dropped to a whisper than scraped along every Human nerve ending, "I leaned over you, and I felt, deep inside you, a response, and I knew, I actually knew, that you felt something for me you didn't expect. And then I knew I would keep coming after you until you recognized that you felt it too. 

"And then it dragged its way into the center of my life. When they made me mortal, when I tried to enjoy having my powers back, when I took Vash out of your life because she was driving me insane, when we had to deal with Amanda, when you died and I had a chance to show you at least a little of what I felt, and when the damn Continuum decided it was time to make you jump through hoops...through all of it, all I had to keep going on was that one little glimpse into you I got on the shuttlecraft, and a few other slight suggestions that you just might want me back, and they became enough for me. They were too little, but they were more than I had ever had before. 

"And then you agreed to go for our walk in the garden." The images of those lush flowers and the bright sun and the long, winding path passed between them now. "And it was such a small thing, but it crossed that barrier, it started to open you up, and I had reason to hope, and it was all right that you meant everything to me, and it was all right that my brothers and sisters were all laughing at me. I didn't care. I knew now I had a chance, and I knew that you might actually love me the way that _I love you._ " 

Q said these final words with great emphasis, putting all that he felt into them as he poured a hundred images of loving into Picard's mind, trying to urge him into release. 

But the release he got wasn't the one he intended. 

"Q," Picard groaned, turning in his embrace. "I do love you." 

And it was only Q's last-second avoidance which kept Picard's kiss from falling on Q's lips, only Q's horror that he would hurt Picard's sense of himself that let the entity catch hold of the hands which sought him, only Q's love which turned the frantic desire they shared into a simple embrace that lasted for the long, long time the captain needed to remember why he wasn't supposed to be thrown on the floor and be taken over and over. 

"I love you," Picard had to settle for saying, in the end. And he said it over and over, Q drinking in the simple words as he made a note to repeat his little speech sometime when Picard's ardor would be more...available. 

And though the captain didn't get the sleep he needed that night, his eyes were full of love and tenderness in the morning, and Q felt energetic enough to stay with him through a hundred peace conferences. 

And in the end the triumphs far outweighed the defeats. There were times Q returned to his adoration of Picard's legs, or other parts of his body, and Picard made Q come more than once merely by lying on top of him with the sheet in-between and sucking the sensitive places on his neck. Surprising them both, the entity had actually taken a liking to having "hickeys" he could see the next morning. 

But it was more than simple sexual inventiveness. Picard discovered (as did Q) that his lover could listen for hours to the difficulties of the conference, offering suggestions based on keen (rather than omniscient) insight, providing humorous observations which helped dispel Jean-Luc's temper, and simply offering understanding for how impossible it was not to feel rage at two races so determined to despise each other. 

Moreover, Q talked as well, of small things, funny things, private things that helped ease the tension from Picard's mind and help him regain his hope and equilibrium after even the most wretched round of talks. 

And most of all Q simply reminded Picard through every action and word and specifically targeted caress that he was loved by someone whose love would always be more than enough for him, who would never tire of him, or turn from him, or want to be with anyone else but him. The perfection and devotion of Q's love wrapped around him like a soft, glowing cocoon that not all the sniping ugliness of a hundred conferences could unravel. 

And, finally, Picard's cheerfully splendid and magnanimous civility won the day while Q's words and careful touches brought him to a different flavor of pleasure each night. 

And now it was over, Q thought petulantly, and he still hadn't been inside Picard. The damn treaty had been signed, everyone had been bored for hours. It was time to get Picard alone and balanced on a knife's edge of ecstasy. He was tempted to give everyone else a raging headache or fill them with the fear that their homes were on fire. Troi and Data were blathering about something now and even though he wasn't listening to the words the simple noise was driving him insane. Picard was making a point of not looking at him in order to keep from embarrassing himself, and the assassin in the corner was staring at Q unrelentingly. 

Well, the assassin was kind of interesting, he admitted to himself. The man evidently had been more than a little horrified when his bomb hadn't gone off a minute ago. Q knew the Biegian man, Artoch, had already sworn his oath to destroy the conference and had cut out a patch of skin over his heart to make himself dead in the eyes of his people. Mortals bent on suicide greatly amused Q, who saw no need to rush something that would happen soon enough on its own. 

Artoch had evidently heard enough about Q to suspect him for his bomb's malfunction, though he had not understood what he'd heard well enough to give up his plan in the first place. Well, Q was actually grateful for the distraction, and was more than willing to repay Artoch fully for attempting to kill Jean-Luc. 

Waiting until no one would notice, Q phased Artoch slightly, so that he could not be seen by or make contact with the others, then changed his appearance to the assassin so that Q looked like Baarlam, the Biegian demon of fire. Artoch fell to his knees as his bladder released in fear. In keeping with his new look, Q set each of Artoch's nerves aflame as he called up images of the children Artoch had killed, the women he had raped, and the tearing face of his mother, while the assassin pleaded for mercy. Q kept this up for some time, watching Artoch's throat grow raw from screaming, until he overheard Picard beginning to wrap up his discussion with the delegates, and flung the pathetic wretch to the middle of a Hapkadiim village, where he was immediately arrested, quickly tried (he not only confessed, but surrendered the names of his entire terrorist group), and summarily executed for his crimes. That the incident helped squash terrorist activities on both Biegia and Hapkadii and greatly sped the coming of peaceful coexistence concerned Q not a bit. 

Since almost everyone there had been uncomfortable and celibate for several weeks, once one delegate left, the rest quickly followed. 

"Well," Picard said to his gathered and weary command crew while Q watched them all with glittering eyes, "an extremely satisfactory ending to what have been a very difficult series of weeks for us all. I want you all to know that I've entered appropriate commendations for all of you and that we'll be putting in to Starbase 117 next week for some extended shore leave." 

The officers smiled back. Picard clapped his hands together, nodded, and left with Q at his side to head for his quarters with disciplined steps. 

The Enterprise command staff tried and failed miserably not to meet each other's eyes, then tried and failed even more completely to keep smiles from their faces. Finally, Riker ordered up a round of drinks and they all toasted a generally mutual feeling of success and joy in each other's company. Even Data felt a little drunk. 

Once they had reached Picard's quarters, anticipation was difficult to release into action, and they simply stood there staring at each other a long, long minute. 

"What have you missed most?" Q asked finally with a grin. 

"Everything." 

Q's grin softened, and he moved to step forward when Picard put up his hand. 

"What is it now?" 

"You've been so good to me. I can't image a more selfless and giving lover." The hazel eyes softened and filled with love so deeply Q felt his chest ache. "I want nothing more now than to do whatever you want, to do _anything_ you want. Please, let me for once encourage you to be selfish. What have you missed most? What can I do for you?" 

Q had thought they would kiss first, and come, and then touch each other's skin, and come, and then, only after that... 

But if Jean-Luc _really_ wanted to do what would give him the most pleasure... 

"Take off your clothes and get on your hands and knees." 

Picard smiled and began to peel off his dress uniform tunic. "I rather thought it might be something like that." 

In record time he was naked, Q's eyes raking over him and making him shudder, and then he settled into position, and when he felt those long-missed hands on his back and rear and thighs, he shuddered and grew hard and arched his back and spread his knees. 

_Hurry, please, love._

_Don't worry._

It had been awhile, however, and Q spent a long minute loosening the muscle with a lubricated finger, watching Picard jerk and moan, and then, only barely able to withstand the urgent screaming throughout his whole physical and conscious self, he put the wet tip of his throbbingly hard cock at the pink opening of his lover's body and pushed, as gently as he could, inside, then rocked deeper and deeper as Jean-Luc moaned, unconsciously clawing at the carpet as his hands clenched into fists. 

_Couldn't stand not having this. Couldn't stand being so empty. Fill me completely, dear beloved. Hurry._

Q barely heard him, completely lost in the sensation of being inside that tight warmth. Not since their first time together had Q been so worried that he would hurt his mortal (well, semi-mortal now) lover. Completely buried at last, he rested against that arched back and wrapped his arms around the slim, strong frame and simply held him close. 

Picard shuddered and fought the urge to push back. This felt so good, but his body was greedy and wanted more, fiercely. 

Q didn't move inside him, but his hands trailed over his chest, teased his nipples to draw out a deep groan, and then found his erection as the first thick drop of precum escaped the tip and dripped onto the floor. 

When Q's hands began to move over him, Picard lost the ability to control his motions, and pushed himself into their warmth. Q rode with him, gently, and soon, very soon, the man was coming, overwhelmed by the feeling of being filled and stroked. Q held himself as still as possible and contemplated the necessary equations for blowing up a Borg ship with a Federation tricorder as Jean-Luc's convulsions struggled to draw out Q's own climax. With a final spasm, the man's body collapsed with Q on top of him, and he would have landed roughly on the floor, except that they were now on the white, soft bed of that sun-warmed room Picard wasn't sure had ever existed in real time or space. 

And now that Picard lay dazed on the bed, his legs spread out and Q still inside him, Q took in and held a deep breath, then began to move. Putting his powers firmly into a locked corner of his consciousness, the entity closed his eyes and thought of nothing but how this felt: heat and tight pressure up and down his aching, pulsing cock so good so good so _good_ he would have come a hundred times if it were not for the clamp his teeth had on his lower lip, drawing blood. His hands on the sides of Picard's body, fists drawn tight around handfuls of the comforter, his shuddering arms barely holding him up, he thrust his hips forward again and again, feeling the perfection of sensation all down the length of his Human body. 

Forcing his eyes open, he looked down at the man's back, drinking in the sight of the rise and fall of deep breaths, the heavy sheen of sweat over his skin, the growing tension in his neck. Picard was aroused again, but doing his best not to move, sensing Q's precarious dance at this extreme limit of his pleasure. 

This was the man who had refused to cower at Farpoint, earning Q's eternal respect. This was the captain who would face any danger for the sake of his beloved Federation and yet had still pleaded with Q in front of his entire crew to be saved from the Borg, not allowing his pride to cause any more deaths. This was the man who had protected Q from the Calamarain, earning Q's eternal gratitude, the man who had forgiven Q even after he was made into Locutus, who had solved the Continuum's puzzle and proven right Q's faith in him to his peers, the man who was so private and disciplined and controlled, and yet who had trusted Q enough to let him inside his life and his body and his heart and his mind. 

_And I'm fucking him in the ass,_ Q thought to himself with rough joy, keeping away from Picard's mind because the slightest touch of his thoughts would bring forth the orgasm he did not yet want. _I'm fucking him senseless and he loves it. I'm fucking him and I'm going to keep on fucking him for eternity, finding out and inventing everything he could want, making him come and watching him watch me come. I'm fucking him and his body is all mine to fuck anytime I want, any way I want. I'm fucking him and --_

"And I'm fucking you!" Q screamed, the orgasm coming at him in a rush so hot and white he felt burned and blinded. 

"Never stop!" Picard screamed back as he felt Q's hot cum pour inside him. "Never stop!" 

And then they lost the words for their continued screams as the pleasure broke through them over and over until it was simply too much and they lay together in a sprawl, unconsciousness forcing a brief pause. 

  
Q awoke to feel Picard pushing inside him. 

"Ooooh," he moaned, spreading his legs, pushed gently up to his chest by Picard's strong hands, to take in more of him as those beloved eyes closed in bliss. Q hadn't cleaned them off, and the captain had used the semen as lubrication. The entity added in some warm oil and healed the cut on his own lower lip, smiling as Picard nodded in agreement, then groaning as the captain began to pump him deeply, smoothly, then paused, opened his glittering eyes, and slowly bent his head down to kiss Q with the skill and passion of his overwhelming love. 

_Oh, I've missed kissing you._

_Look, the next peace conference that wants you to live like a monk, tell them to piss off, okay?_

Picard chuckled at the thought that his life had been at all monk-like during the conference, and began to thrust deeply into his lover while continuing the kiss. Soon, he was lost in the sensations, completely filled with Q's love, yet needing to be even deeper inside him. 

_I'd actually forgotten how good you feel. Mon Dieu. This is heaven. Tell me I can do this forever._

"You can do this...forever, my love." 

_Tell me you don't want me to stop._

"I don't...ooooh, Jean-Luc...want you to...stop." 

_Tell me I feel good._

"Good?...Are you...insane? You feel...ahh...puny Human words can't...say how good...ohhhhh...good you feel." 

_Try_ harder. 

_OH! Oh, do that again!_

Picard complied, several times, and Q started, very satisfactorily, to scream, raising his legs higher as his straining arms pulled Jean-Luc's body tighter against him. 

But something was wrong. 

_What is it, Q? Why are you holding back?_

_I don't want to hurt you, my belov-_

_You are NOT going to HURT ME!_ Picard reared back and began to pound into Q as hard as he could, knowing Q wanted it, reveled in it, would beg for it if Picard wanted him to. But he didn't want begging and he was tired of being treated like a china doll. _Open up! Give me everything! I don't care if it burns me! I don't care if there's nothing of me left when you're done! I can't stand not having all of you! Now, OPEN UP!_

And even as he felt his orgasm approaching, Q let go of his fear and reached out for his cherished lover with all that he had, pouring out and gathering up without limitations until Picard was everything in his consciousness, and he all in Picard's. There was no sense of sharing, but only of _being_ the same. The sensations from their bodies were stronger than ever, but somehow both bodies belonged to both of them, and the mutual pleasure was double the highest bliss they had ever known before. Fortunately, they both had twice the strength than before to endure it. 

It was no longer a question of barriers, but a mingling and joining at the very foundation of their identities, and Q/Picard felt they were made of nothing but love and ecstasy that went on and on and on in a bubble of eternity, so fragile and yet completely whole, completely safe, nothing in this universe but the other, and the other wanting nothing but to fill that universe with the knowledge that they were no longer alone. 

And then Q pulled just slightly away, feeling his heart break as Picard clung to him. 

_We have to end this, my love, or you_ will _be hurt._

More because he didn't want to bring Q grief than from a sense of self-preservation, Picard moved away, bracing himself to face the loneliness of being without Q again. 

And yet, when he opened his eyes and saw Q lying beneath him, hair matted with sweat, his dark, wild eyes staring up at him with adoration so fierce they seemed to be on fire, when he felt the gasping body under his own, even when he realized he was no longer inside Q physically, Picard did not feel alone. 

_Je t'adore, mon amour. Je vous aime. Ma ceour est pour toi._

_Fuck me again._

And so he did. 

  
THE END 

Picard and Q will return in _On Her Majesty's Secret Q_. 


End file.
